My name is Arthur
by WarpzoneGirl
Summary: At the age of 16 Arthur Kirkland is kicked out of his home simply because when he was born his parents named him Alice. His brothers are ALSO kicked out for liking girls and boys. What can they do now WILL INCLUDE: FRUK AMERIPAN AND PRUCAN, Transtalia (rating may eventually change)


I suppose I always knew I didn't fit in with other girls, at least within my comprehensible memory (or to be specific daycare). While the rest of the girls were attracted to the doll houses and pretended to be ballerinas in the frilly tutus in the costume chest, I found my self instead being beckoned by the 'boy toys': pirate ships and plastic swords. Instead of trying to share these interests with with the female students in the classroom. me and several other boys were the knights of Camelot, always on a new quest that I came up with, either from my imagination or from the Legends of King Arthur that my Mum always read to me before bed. I was, naturally, their King Arthur since I was the one who could make up and lead them on our quests. Quiet frankly none of them cared that it was I who played the great King, as long as I was willing to go out and lead them on our quests. I quite frankly always liked that name better than the one I was given at birth, Alice. Arthur was STRONG, a LEADER, and a straight-up MANLY BAD-ARSE WITH SWORD in the eyes of my 4-year-old self. Alice was the name of a girl who hallucinated a broken and twisted 'Wonderland',put her self in danger CONSTANTLY, and did what she was told blindly and then walked away from it with no reward or consequence and imminent proof she needed a psych. eval., she couldn't even SAY her tale without getting a one-way ticket on the train to the mental home. So I was their king Arthur and they were my knights. Then that all changed when my Mum came early from work and saw me and a few of the boys putting away our props and costumes for tomorrows quest. She asked me what we were doing and I told her valiantly that we were playing King Arthur, expecting her to be proud I was playing such a noble game but instead she asked me "OH, are you the fair and beautiful Guinevere? OR the dark and mystical Morgana?" This confused me, why would I want to be them? "No, we don't have them in our play pretend. They didn't do to much in your stories and they did some bad stuff when they were. I'm KING ARTHUR! He was wayyyyyy cooler and he was a really good guy and he had a SWORD." Mum did not share my enthusiasm. She said to me "Alice, duck, King Arthur was a _boy_ you are a young _lady_." I had no idea at the time why it was those words that stung me worse than the time a bee stung my nose while me and my knights were looking for fairies in the flowers in the daycare playground. My mum made me swear I would try and play with 'girl toys' and play with girls.

That night, Mum didn't read me to sleep.

So I simply stopped playing with the boys. At first they were confused and probably a bit hurt by my new change of play-mates, one of them even tried masking this by saying that didn't have time for "stupid girls" anyways. I tried masking my own hurt at the cruel words by pretending to be loving my time away from them. But in reality I hated it my situation and all of it's hetero-normative glory. While the boys moved on their next adventure, I was stuck having to wear play make-up that irritated all 5 of my senses, dolls with lives so dull that if they made watching paint dry look the event of the century, and a fake oven that no-one would let me play with, all because I once said I would bake some scones and 900 degrees. Every time I would pretend to enjoy one of the dreadfully feminine activities my mind would drift back to the days when I was "Arthur", treated like the rest of the boys, instead of being Alice, a _girl_ who was forced to fake enjoyment from behind 30 layers of makeup and even more layers of that wretched pink and purple glittery tutu that made the Barbie isle look subtle. Sounds pretty sad right? Well if you're currently thinking "How bad could it possibly be?' imagine you're a small BOY who must wear makeup, play with female toys and and wear a tutu.

Mum didn't read me to sleep again.

At the age of five my parents stopped buying me pants

They agreed that it was high time that I started dressing more like a lady, so into the donation bin went my trousers, and in came the load of skirts and dresses my parents had gotten me. I hated them. I couldn't run, jump, sit with my legs uncrossed, bend over, or get a _speck_ of dirt on them. I felt DREADFUL. Mum rarely let me get hair cut despite my constant protests, saying "You don't want to look like a boy do you?". One nigh I thought ...Maybe I _do._ I always envied my younger twin-brothers Alfred and Matthew, they got to have short hair, do sports, and wear pants. They were told told to grow up to be big and strong and tough; I was told to be pretty and dainty, to be a _lady_.

At age eleven I heard about the term 'trans-gender'

Mum took me to the nail salon and I over-heard her and some ladies talking about this one woman's son being a trans female and how it was a 'disgrace'. When I heard this term it felt good to me, like that feeling of when you figure out the entire crossword. I didn't know how I felt about this, all my life I had been told I was a _girl_ and I didn't know anything else. I figure I was just... Wrong, for liking the hings I did and that I might grow out of it, but I never did. Now I was questioning my self.

At age thirteen I started identifying myself as a male.

The only people I told were my eleven year-old brothers. They took the news well. They said that I was still their older sibling, brother or sister. Alfred also added that it explained why my cooking stunk. The also came out to me, apparently they were both starting o not only like girls but _boys_ as well. We never felt closer. Since they were getting to be as tall as I was, when mum and dad left us alone they would lend me their clothes and called me the name I had always admired, Arthur.

At age 16 we decided it would be a **_great_ ** idea to come out to our parents

That was **not** our brightest idea to date.


End file.
